


picnic

by largoindminor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, M/M, Rim job, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/largoindminor/pseuds/largoindminor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean take a mini vacation after a case puts them just a few miles from the shore. Relaxing on the beach, then back to the hotel for some "we time".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the first chapter was prompted by a request for cute fluffy sam and dean picnic. the second chapter is me being trash and needing to add porn. i hope you enjoy!

“Sammy, ya know when I said about taking a vacation, this ain’t exactly what I meant.”  


“I know, Dean,” Sam struggles to control the roll of his eyes at Dean’s teasing, “but you said– and we were close by so I-” he stops mid word, clamps down the rest of the sentence before it spills past his lips. S _o I brought you here because I’m worried about you and I promised you’d get that vacation and that I’d save you but now I’m afraid I may not be there to share it with you so I wanted us to have at least this…_

It’s kind of amazing, they’ve spent their entire lives traveling this country and hadn’t managed to make it all the way to one of the shores. Sure, Sam had been to the beach a few times in college, late night bonfires and the like, but never like this. A blanket. An umbrella. Dean. And sun-bleached sand, coarse between their toes.

“Just messin’ with ya,” Dean replies, smiling, and spreads the blanket out under the shade, “it’s not too bad here, for Maryland. I mean, at least it ain’t Jersey, right?” He winks and tosses the half used tube of sunscreen into Sam’s lap, “Better wear protection.”

They lie back, side by side, and settle into their make-shift paradise. It’s just a blanket bed with some rolled up towels for pillows, but it’s also respite and calm comfort and togetherness. The day stretches on and the wind shifts, bay breeze carrying with it the smell of funnel cake and cocoa butter and pungent inlet waters. The boardwalk cacophony blends into the background as the tide moves in, and they grow drowsy and doze to a lullaby of white noise and seagulls.

Hours pass and the sun’s dipping low behind them, the beach itself only sparsely populated now as the tourists migrate above the dunes. Dean’s hand snakes over, rubs it lazily along the back of Sam’s before he tangles their fingers together loosely. It’s a small gesture, but more than they usually permit themselves in public places.

“Hungry.”

Sam smiles up at the sky and squeezes Dean’s hand. “Picnic,” he says, and sits up, “wait here. Be right back.”

Dean waits as instructed, looks out over the ocean. It’s dusk, but the lights from the resorts and shops up and down the boardwalk are bright, and he can still make out the contour of the shoreline. It’s beautiful, he thinks, that boundary where water meets land. A place where you can stand and be both on land and in the ocean, like it’s possible to be two things at once if you just allow a little ebb and flow between them. He contemplates the mark on his arm, the anger that sometimes wells within in him, and tries to reconcile that with the warm weightlessness he feels now.  _How is it possible,_  he thinks,  _to feel like I could float away,_ and he digs his toes deeper, to where the sand is cold and damp, breathes in the dry salt air.  _It feels pure here, too._

Sam’s gone for ages, it seems, at least an hour, Dean thinks, when he realizes the sky is completely black. His stomach tightens at the thought sets in, and he bolts up just in time to see Sam’s silhouette walk towards him.

“Took forever, man.” Dean complains, unable to hide the huff of relief and lightness in his voice despite best efforts.

“Fries,” is all Sam says, and he drops back down to the blanket and lays out their dinner.

“Fries?”

“Yeah, uh, there was a really long line for these french fries. Like, crazy long. I figured, they must be good? They are.”

Dean sits back down as well and surveys the spread- two ridiculously large slices of pizza, a few beers,  _something_ round and fried and dusted with powdered sugar, and the fries.

“You waited an hour for fries?”

Sam just shrugs, picks one up and pops it right into Dean’s open mouth, and waits.

And man.  _Oh man._ Crispy outside, fluffy inside, perfectly seasoned, Dean’s certain he’s never tasted a fry this good before. He’s not sure if he’s tasted _anything_  this good before, and he looks at Sam and tries to convey this without words, because damnit, he needs to have some more of these  _right now_.

“Right?” Sam says, and grabs a few more for himself.

The fries go first, then the pizza. Dean gestures toward the fried confection and quirks a questioning eyebrow.

“Fried oreo,” Sam explains, “sounded like something you’d like.”

Dean bolts that too, it’s the perfect fried and greasy end to a fried and greasy meal, and washes it down with a swallow of beer.

Sam laughs, “You’ve got- just. There,” and he licks his thumb and reaches for Dean’s face to brush away a stubborn smudge of powdered sugar under his lower lip.

“Dude, gross,” Dean moves back out of reach and bats Sam’s hand away playfully.

Sam grabs his hand and pulls him closer, nose to nose, and Dean’s faux disgust dissolves. “Come ‘ere,” Sam whispers as he leans in for a kiss, soft and light, and he swipes his tongue over Dean’s lips once, twice, tasting the sweetness on his tongue.

They’re the only ones on the beach now, they’re alone  _enough_  and Dean returns the kiss with fervor, deepens it, lifts his hands to run through Sam’s hair. He feels the grit of sand against his skin everywhere, as he trails his fingers over Sam’s shoulders and down his back, hooks them just under the waistband of Sam’s shorts to feel the swell of his ass.

Sam groans and pushes Dean back a little, reluctantly.

“Sex on the beach. With all the sand, really not a good idea. We do have a room for the night, you know.”

“Yeah. Just,” and he’s not sure what to say, really, because it was so perfect, this little idyllic moment they stole here, and he knows it can’t last. “Sammy, I-” he rests his forehead against Sam’s, “thanks.” And he doesn’t need to say thanks, he knows he doesn’t, but he says it anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean’s first stop back at the rom is the shower. His skin feels tight, dried from the salt air and raw with the scratch of sand. He nods towards the bathroom at Sam in invitation.

“Uh, gimme a few, you go ahead.”

Dean shucks his shorts and reaches into the stall to turn on the water. The room is far more luxurious than they’re accustomed to, and the impressive water pressure and near immediate billow of steam is a pleasant surprise.

He’s shampooing his hair for the second time to remove the last traces of sand from his scalp when he hears Sam come in, feels a blast of cool air as the curtain is pulled back.

“Hey, wait your turn,” he jokes, squinting one eye open to look at Sam through water droplets and foam.

Sam’s on him immediately, hot mouth slams into Dean’s, the impact pushes him back and they’re both under the generous spray of the shower head. Sam cradles Dean’s head, his fingers tangle in the short hairs at the nape of Dean’s neck as his thumbs skim along the soft skin beneath Dean’s jaw. Sam backs off the kiss a little, licks gently into Dean’s mouth, nibbles and sucks at his lips.

“Mmm, Sam,” Dean wraps his arms around Sam, pulling him down closer, “Sammy,” he feels desperate.

“I know,” Sam says, pulls out of the embrace and turns Dean around.

Dean’s facing the spay now, he feels Sam pressed up behind him, a solid wall of wet heat for him to lean back against. Sam ducks down and kisses the sensitive skin behind Dean’s ear, whispers, alternates sweet and filthy words.  _Lo_ _ve._ _B_ _aby._ _Wanna_ _taste you._ _M_ _ake you scream_ _. Perfect._

Sam’s hands are all over. He rubs over Dean’s chest, dips lower, tickles into the softness of Dean’s belly, drifts lower still, brushes over the growing swell of his erection. He wraps his hand around Dean’s cock, pulls one long stroke, and Dean feels weak, like he would fall if not for Sam’s steady presence behind him. Sam’s other hand still wrapped tightly around his chest, fingers rub and pinch over Dean’s nipples.

“Sam. I need- more.”

“Patience,” Sam says, and Dean groans in frustration. “Told you, gonna make you scream.”

Dean feels Sam let go of him and has to lean forward to brace himself against the shower wall without Sam to lean on. Suddenly Sam’s on his knees behind him and Dean says a silent prayer of thanks for the spaciousness of the shower and the never ending hot water. He feels the tentative brush of Sam’s finger along the crack of his ass and braces himself in anticipation of that finger filling him up. Instead, Sam grabs his ass with both hands and spreads him open, pressing a kiss right over his hole.

“Sam,” Dean’s voice is low and reverent, his head is swimming, completely unprepared for the sensation of Sam’s soft lips  _there_.

“Taste you,” Sam says again, absently, and drags his tongue over Dean’s entrance, “taste so fucking good.”

Dean whimpers, grabs at the slippery tile to hold himself up as Sam licks him, presses his tongue  _just_  inside and pulls it out again. Dean can feel the scruff of Sam’s day-old stubble scratching his inner cheeks as Sam presses in closer, kisses him wet and sloppy and deep, sucking and fucking his tongue into his asshole. Dean’s overwhelmed with the feeling, unable to form words, just presses back for more, more tongue, more scruff, more Sam. Sam responds to Dean’s eagerness, spreads Dean even wider, presses his tongue harder and faster in and out.

Sam eats him for what feels like an eternity. Dean can hear the muffled animal grunts and moans falling from Sam’s mouth and he loses all concept of the passage of time, just floats on the sounds and sensations. It’s hot and filthy and Dean doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to touch his cock and come too soon.

Eventually Sam pulls away. Dean’s a shivering mess, so overstimulated and hard, he takes a minute to center himself before he can move. He turns to look at Sam and gasps at the sight of his brother, kneeling, water spraying his face, lips red and swollen, cock hanging heavy between his thighs. Dean reaches down, rubs his thumb over Sam’s bottom lip and cocks his head toward the door and Sam nods in agreement.

They take turns drying each other off, rubbing the sweet smelling hotel towels over each other, rough and vigorous over chest and shoulder, soft and gentle over more sensitive areas. Dean drops the towel on the foot of the bed and moves to lie down, but Sam grabs his wrist to stop him, pulls him over to the balcony instead and pushes open the door to let in the soft breeze and ocean roar. On the balcony Dean sees what Sam must have been doing before he got in the shower. Arranged on the little table between the two pool chairs, champagne and whipped cream.

“Really?” Dean asks, and he means to sound sarcastic but his voice hitches.

Sam just shrugs, “When I booked this room, they assumed this was, uh, a honeymoon or something. They asked if we wanted this brought up, so, I figured…” he trails off and smiles sheepishly.

They’re still naked but the balcony is private and high enough up that no one on the ground would see them even if it weren’t so late at night. Sam pours them both a glass of champagne and tilts his glass for a silent toast. They swallow down and Dean takes both their glasses to place them back on the table, moves in to wrap his arms around Sam again and pulls him close for a kiss. They stand there for a long time, kissing to the roar of the ocean, hands roaming over each other’s backs, asses, tangling in each other’s hair. They’re so hard, both of them, ever since the shower, but both content to just take their time in this place.

Sam unwraps Dean’s arms from around his neck and lays Dean back onto the chaise and straddles his hips. He grabs the bottle and holds it to Dean’s lips, pours a little out, some Dean can swallow, some spills down his chin and onto his neck. Sam bends down to lap it up, then drinks some himself and let’s it dribble down his chest. Dean moans low in his throat and lifts his head up to lick a tendril of the sweet liquid drizzling over Sam’s nipple.  

When the champagne’s gone, Sam reaches for the whipped cream and slides further down til he’s straddling Dean’s knees. He scoops a dollop of the cream on his finger and lightly dabs it on the underside of Dean’s cock, then leans forward and licks it up. Dean reaches down to thread his fingers through Sam’s hair just as Sam takes the sensitive head of his cock into his mouth. Dean’s been hard for so long and the sensation explodes inside him, the warm wet suction of Sam’s mouth is almost too much. Sam pulls off, gathers more of the whipped cream and repeats the action, applies just enough suction to keep Dean on edge.

“Sam,” Dean’s voice is low and gravelly, “inside.”

By the time they make it to the bed, neither one of them has the control to take their time any more. Dean lays back against the mountain of pillows, places one under his ass to get in a good position. Sam grabs a bottle of lube from his bag and crawls on top of him. Sam slides in a lube slicked finger, then two, twisting a few times inside the tight heat of Dean’s ass before he pulls them out and lines his cock up there instead.

Sam pushes inside slowly, Dean squeezes his eyes shut as he feels himself being filled, concentrates on not coming yet, despite how good it feels. Sam lifts one of Dean’s legs over his arm and slides down on top of him so they’re face to face.

“Fuck, you feel so good Dean. So tight,” he swears again and starts to slide in and out, tries to hold back the string of words running through his mind but fails.

_Need you Dean. Fuck. So good. Gonna come in you. Fuck, I love you so much. Come for me, please. I want to feel you come on my cock. God you feel so good, Dean. Need you. Please. Always need you. Can’t lose you._

“You got me Sam, I got you. I ain’t going anywhere,” it’s a lie, Dean thinks, but what else can he say. “Fuck, Sammy. I promise. Fuck, just like that,” as Sam fucks into him harder, “touch me, Sam, touch my cock. Please. Need to come. Make me come.”

Sam does, he reaches down between them and wraps his hand around Dean’s precome slicked cock and pumps in time with his thrusts, rubs his thumb over the slit and Dean cries out.

“Shit. Yeah, I– I’m gonna come Sam, god just like that. I’m–” and Dean moans, his hips buck and his asshole squeezes rhythmically around Sam’s cock as he comes so hard it almost hurts. Sam pushes in as far as he can and holds himself there, feels the tight muscles contract around him as he strokes Dean through his orgasm and chases his own.

“Dean. Dean, so tight.  _Fuck,”_ he thumbs over Dean’s sensitive cock again to feel more contractions and he’s done for, “Dean, I’m gonna come in you, so deep in you,” Dean rocks his hips, “Fuck I’m so–” Dean rolls his hips again and Sam shudders, thrusts in shallow jerky movements and comes deep inside him.

Sam collapses on top of Dean, and they lie there for a moment, catching their breath, before the come cooling between them becomes uncomfortable. Dean wipes them off with one of the bath towels and maneuvers them under the covers, Sam’s head cradled over his heart.

“Sam,” Dean says as he places a soft kiss to on the top of Sam’s head, “thanks, for this. The beach, the picnic, the hotel, the- everything. This has been. Well. What I needed.” He means it, too, he feels more relaxed than he has in months.

“You don’t have to thank me, Dean, this was. Well, for both of us. We both needed it.”

Tomorrow it’s back to the fight, to secrets and lies and worry, but tonight it’s just sleepy kisses and legs tangled together and the sound of the ocean lulling them into a deeper and more peaceful sleep than they can remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. i'm from jersey so i can say that.  
> 2\. that french fry scenario happened to me. i was in ocean city with my bf and we saw this ridiculously long line for fries. like, 1/4 mile long. and we're like pffft, how good can these fries be? they are. that. good.


End file.
